


Stand-In Journalist

by Miraculous_Max (Maximilian_Alexander)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Anxiety, Anxious Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Chat Noir Being Chat Noir, Chat Noir Is a Little Shit, Chat Noir is a Good Boy, Dissociation, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Is So Done, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Is a Mess, Social Media, Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 13:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maximilian_Alexander/pseuds/Miraculous_Max
Summary: Alya decides to cash in on Marinette’s many IOUs of the past when she ends up unable to make it to an interview she had scheduled with Chat Noir.Nothing could have prepared her for the results.





	Stand-In Journalist

“You want me to do _what?_ ”

Marinette’s vaguely aware that her voice may have been a tad too loud, especially considering the fact that Alya had been attempting to whisper to her just moments ago. She’s also vaguely aware that’s she’s attracted the attention of most students currently walking up the school steps, including that of her crush, Adrien Agreste. Surprisingly, she finds herself unbothered. And more than a little distracted.

“Alya, you’re joking, right? You have to be.”

“Girl, _shush_ ,” Alya hisses out, wrapping an arm over Marinette’s shoulders and taking glances around them. It seems a little on the paranoid side, but Marinette isn’t one to judge.

“Listen, my grandma has to go into surgery, so me and my family have to take off for a week. I really, _really_ , wish I could do this myself, but I’ve got no other choice right now. I know you’re busy with all your commissions, and the bakery, and class president stuff, but Nino sucks at talking professionally, and Adrien’s, like, _never_ allowed out of the mansion.”

“What makes you think I’d be a better choice in comparison to literally every other student in our class?”

Alya rolls her eyes at all.

“Marinette, I’ve heard your customer service voice.”

“Ah.”

Right. Helping out her parents at the bakery meant an awful lot of occasions where she’d had to deploy the infamous _customer service voice_. After all, they _do_ own one of the most popular bakeries in all of Paris, which meant attracting quite a lot of tourists.

Unlike America, the Dupain-Cheng bakery doesn’t take bullshit. She makes sure to let rude customers know that just from the tone of her voice.

If she tells you to leave, you _leave_. She only needs to say it once.

“Besides,” Alya continues on. “If you do this for me, you can consider _all_ of your IOUs paid off.”

“Do what?”

The two girls look away from each other in surprise, now noticing they had the attention of their resident model. Despite teasingly calling out Marinette as an eavesdropper, everyone’s rather aware of his nosy tendencies. (Not many can blame him, though. He’s not socially incompetent, but boundaries are still not his strong point. Really, considering his only friend for years was _Chloé_ , well… It’s understandable, to a point.)

“And what makes you think that’s your business, Agreste?” Alya smirks, placing a hand on her hip and using the other occupied one to pull Marinette closer.

She’s been doing that around Adrien a lot, testing some theory about Adrien and his touchy-feely habits. Marinette decided she didn’t want any part of that and didn’t ask any further.

“Well,” Adrien playfully smirks back. “I overheard―”

“Eavesdropped,” Alya loudly whispers into Marinette’s ear, who giggles in response.

“ _Overheard_ ,” Adrien corrects, though he’s clearly smiling. “You pressuring poor Marinette into doing something that she doesn’t seem to want to do. So I was just curious, is all.”

He pauses, glancing back and forth between the two girls.

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Lila, would it?”

Alya bursts out into a short laugh, not realising the fond look Marinette shoots Adrien’s way or how his shoulders are tensed, maybe even worried.

“No way! This is way more important than _that!_ Marinette’s just filling in for me for one of my, uh… Ladyblog duties.”

Adrien relaxes, then smiles almost knowingly.

“Ah, I see. Nino said you’re going out of town in two days, right?”

“Yup! But you’re not getting any more than that. Now shoo, we got a lot to talk about.”

“Wait, hey,” Marinette protests. “I didn’t agree yet!”

“So you’re _not_ going to take the opportunity to pay off all your IOUs in one sitting?”

The designer snaps her mouth shut and stares off into space for a moment, brows knit together and cheeks puffed up in what seems to be intense consideration.

“… Okay, deal.”

“Yes! Let’s go, then! Bye, Adrien!”

And with that, Alya drags Marinette away before the poor girl realises who she was standing in front of, and accidentally makes a fool of herself as a result.

* * *

Alya had given Marinette most of the material she would need to do the job. Not only that, but she had coached Marinette through lines and responses, and how to use her _customer service_ voice and morph it into a similar but distinctly different _interviewer_ voice.

With all that, you would think that Marinette would be prepared for what she was about to do. But the truth of the matter is that no, she was not prepared. In fact, she was the _opposite_ of prepared. While, yes, the chairs and cameras were all set up, and everything looked neat and tidy, and she was wearing her best professional clothing— a ruffled pink top and grey pencil skirt— Marinette was…

Well, she was freaking out. She had never practiced with the blinding light fixtures or with a camera pointed directly at her face. She never practiced her lines with anyone other than Alya. She only learned how to turn the cameras on today, right when Nino had finished up putting the cameras in place and was about to go home before curfew. 

It was just the push of a simple button, so that shouldn’t be something to worry about, but the fact of the matter was that _she hadn’t even considered she would be the one responsible for the cameras_. Which left the question― What _else_ was she responsible for, that she hadn’t even anticipated?

“Well, this is a surprise.”

Oh god, he’s already here.

Plastering on a forced smile, Marinette turns her attention to a silhouette crouching on a high window. The crescent moon is hovering just behind his head, and his eyes seem to glow in the darkness of the corner he was in. He’s clearly already putting on a show, and Marinette realises with some panic that she doesn’t have a camera lined up in that direction.

Was… Was she supposed to move it? No, no, what if she accidentally breaks it? No, she can’t move it. But what if Alya wants this footage?

“Hello, Chat Noir,” Marinette forces out, stopping herself from prematurely pressing the record button. She… She’s supposed to do something first before doing that, but she’s forgotten what.

The superhero jumps down from his perch and walks into the artificial lighting, smiling easily and swinging his lower body over the back of the velvety red armchair, sinking into the seat cushions. 

“I was under the assumption that our favourite ladyblogger would be conducting the interview.”

“She had a family emergency, so I’ll be taking her place this time.”

His smile twitches down a bit, then completely fades away. His gaze grows more intense.

“… I see.”

An awkward silence stretches between them, and Marinette feels her face gradually heat up in embarrassment. Her mind is completely blank. 

“Marinette, are you alright?”

It takes her more than a couple seconds to process that question, and when she does, her embarrassment increases tenfold.

“I’m fine, sorry about that. Just got lost in thought. Anyways, are you prepared for the interview?”

Apparently, her response displeases him, because he stands up and walks around the table between them, stopping just beside her. His eyes never leave her face.

“… Marinette, I think you’re either having an anxiety attack right now, or you’re dissociating.”

“Am I,” is her automatic response. He doesn’t say anything, only frowning as though he was given a rather unfortunate answer. He reaches for his baton and opens it up, kneeling down beside her legs. He takes several minutes to check something up, reads through it, then puts the baton away.

“Okay, definitely dissociating,” he mumbles to himself. He stands up again then goes over to the equipment, and Marinette doesn’t do anything to stop him from messing with it. 

Abruptly, the lights shut off. 

“Marinette, you okay? Do you hear me?”

His voice is soft in the darkness, which is comforting, but it’s still distressing that she _can’t see_. Yes, the lights were horrible, but now the only thing in her vision is the imprint of a bright, blueish hue, fixed in place no matter how many times she blinks or where she looks.

“Marinette?”

His voice is closer, now, but even softer, just shy of a whisper. She hums in response, then blinks a few more times. One of the light fixtures is moved out of the way, allowing for moonlight to splash over the table and chair in front of her. Her shoulders untense, just a little. There’s still spots in her vision, but she can see now, so it doesn’t matter.

“Do you want me to keep talking?”

 _Yes_ , yes, she would very much like that. Her body is beginning to feel a little shaky, but she manages to give the voice a sharp nod. The voice? Who was she talking to again? She couldn’t—

“You know, I lied when I said I was surprised,” the voice says, interrupting her spiralling thoughts. “I knew that Alya was gonna be out of town, I had overheard about it. I also know you’re her best friend, so I kind of expected to see you. I was really excited about it.”

A figure moves in front of her, briefly, before once again getting comfortable in the plush red seat. His lips move in time with the voice.

“I really enjoy talking with you. It’s really easy to trust you with things I wouldn’t tell others, because you’re very respectful and kind. I’m honestly amazed that you never told Alya about that whole balcony thing, the day Glaciator attacked. I didn’t even have to tell you not to say anything, you just naturally understand boundaries like that.”

Chat Noir smiles in a way that’s nothing like all the previous smiles she’s ever seen on his face.

Right. Chat Noir. She’s talking to Chat Noir, because she was supposed to be filling in for Alya, who is out of town, for an exclusive one-on-one interview with Chat Noir. And she…

And she already messed up.

“Oh, God,” she says with sudden realisation. She quickly raises both hands to squish them against the front of her face, covering up her burning cheeks. “Oh, _God_ , I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Hey, it’s alright—”

“ _No_ , it’s _not_ alright, because I _promised_ Alya I would get this done, and that it would be perfect, but I totally messed up everything because I couldn’t keep my _stupid_ feelings in check, _again_ , and Alya had worked so hard and deserves—”

“Marinette, stop.”

She flinches back, and sees Chat Noir now seated down on the table, his knees just barely bumping into hers on either side. He leans forward and takes hold of both her hands, placing them on her lap.

“You need to stop thinking about what Alya will think or how she would do this. _You’re not Alya_. You may be the stand-in journalist, but that doesn’t mean you have to do everything by her rules.”

“But, _no_ , this is _Alya’s_ interview, she—”

“She’s not here right now. _You_ are. Listen Marinette, you can’t do this by pretending to be some imitation of Alya. If you want an authentic, smooth-going interview, you’ll need to go about this your _own_ way. Everything you learned from Alya is going to be your base template. A resource for you to borrow from. You with me so far?”

Marinette presses her lips together and nods. Chat smiles and cups her cheeks, using his thumbs to brush away tears she hadn’t even known she’d shed.

“Good. Now then, tell me how _Marinette Dupain-Cheng_ would interview a superhero.”

* * *

The light fixtures were back in place, now at a much lower level than they were previously. The table had been moved out of the way, allowing for the chairs to be close enough that either one of them could stick their leg out to kick the other, easily. The cameras were rearranged to film at different angles, now, and no camera view excluded either of the two out of the shot.

Most importantly, Marinette had ditched the file Alya had provided her. She already knew the questions by heart, anyways, in case she needed to use one of them.

“You ready to begin?”

It’s funny, really, that the _interviewee_ was asking that, and not the _interviewer_. 

“Yeah,” Marinette responds. “Let’s get this show started.”

And with that, the cameras start rolling. Marinette grins at camera A, placed to have a perfect side-view recording of both parties from a distance.

“ _Bonjour, Paris!_ I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and while I’ve literally never done an interview in my _life_ , Alya Césaire decided that I would be the _purrfect_ replacement in her absence. So, really, you should blame her for this.”

Chat snorts loudly at that.

“Continuing on, today we’ll be asking our favourite feline superhero, Puss in Boots, a few questions. Say hello, kitty!”

“Oh, God,” Chat says in-between a short bout of laughter. “ _Bonjour, Paris_. Just so you know, I did _nothing_ to deserve this blatant mistreatment.”

“Hush,” Marinette says, giving him a light kick in the shin. “I _punned_ for you. I get a pass.”

“What? No way, you can’t get _passes_ for animal cruelty.”

“Oh, you’re an _animal_ now? Way to start this interview off strong for your lady fans, Chat Noir. Please, do go on.”

The interview goes by smoothly. There’s never a lull in conversation, boundaries remain untouched, and the atmosphere remains playful, warm, personal, and overall enjoyable.

But, it isn’t the end.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Marinette?”

She sighs, picking up the file she had previously discarded, squinting due to the bright lights. 

“I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy doing things my way, but I _did_ promise Alya that I’d do it the way she planned it. So, we might as well film this version as well, right? She can decide for herself which one she likes better. Besides, I…”

She smiles.

“I feel a lot better now. I think I can do this.”

“Alright then,” Chat concedes. “Let’s take it from the top, then.”

* * *

Alya has watched both videos at least ten times each, and she has to admit, the superior one is rather clear. As much as she doesn’t like it, Marinette was clearly more in her element in the first one filmed, which went on to further charge the chemistry between her and Chat.

And _boy_ , was there _chemistry_. 

That leads to the next problem. If she posts the first video, Paris would practically erupt, a new brand of shippers will jump into the scene, and Hawkmoth may very well place a target on her best friend’s back.

If she posts the second video, her followers would find the interviewer rather lackluster, and possibly make a lot of rude comments that she _doesn’t_ want her best friend to be subjected to.

… Really, the answer to her dilemma would be pretty obvious. Marinette can handle a few internet jerks. It’s no big deal, and, most importantly, it _won’t_ get her targeted by Hawkmoth. 

But the thing is… Marinette and Chat Noir _want_ her to post the first video. They wouldn’t have filmed it and given it to her if they _hadn’t_ wanted it to go public.

The ladyblogger leans back into her desk chair and sighs, glancing towards the bedside digital clock while biting down on her thumb. 1:53. She really needs to make a decision, otherwise she’ll never be able to actually go to bed.

Her sleep deprived mind suddenly gets an idea. She latches on to it, posting both videos with different captions, then collapses into her bed with a sigh of relief. She’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow.

* * *

Chat Noir is a little shit and he’s going to _**pay**_. 

She feels fooled. Bamboozled. A few nights ago, he had been gentle and kind, had given her good advice, and encouraged her to do her best without sacrificing the way she is. _That_ Chat Noir was an inspiration. A friend and an ally. Someone she trusts and could count on. 

The Chat Noir of today made her realise that, yes, while he _can_ be all those things, he’s still a little storm of trouble, mischief, and utter _**bullshit**_. 

And she was _not prepared for this_. 

It’s only been a day since the interviews have been posted, but almost immediately after they had gone public, Chat Noir decided to post a link to it on his social media and make _comments_.

Ones specifically made to rile up every shipper, analyst, and hero fan in Paris.

If she gets stopped _one more time_ by some creepy adult fan who thinks it’s perfectly okay to grab a little teenager by the wrist, she’s going to _**kick their fucking ass**_. 

She eyes the expensive fabric scissors with an expression that screams murder. She wonders if it could tear through a magical catsuit. Probably not. Besides, she’d have to pay for it if she gets blood on it, and she only brought enough money to get herself some fabric.

Ugh.

She feels her hands twitch as her phone dings with another update on Chat Noir’s twitter. Begrudgingly, she shoves her hand into her purse and fishes it out, wondering what he could possibly be saying _now_. Seriously, how has he not exhausted himself yet? Wasn’t he awake at, like, 2 in the morning?

_**Marinette is not a toy. Quit grabbing her and asking her questions on the street. She’s a person. I SEE you, lady in the blue cardigan at the fabric store. She’s 13. Back. Off.** _

Quickly, she whips her head around to look over her shoulder, catching sight of a middle-aged woman in a navy blue cardigan. The woman is looking down at her phone, silently walking away in embarrassment.

Her phone dings thrice again.

_**Hey Paris, remember when I DIDN’T need to play bodyguard because you guys were respectful towards teenaged girls who were lucky enough to interact with superheroes? Let’s go back to that.** _

_**Seriously, I only noticed like 30 minutes ago when I saw some university guy corner her on the street. What the hell’s going on? @ladyblogger Was this a normal occurrence and me and Ladybug just didn’t know?** _

_**I admit I was joking around and maybe fueling some ship wars but I didn’t expect grown adults to take that as a sign to harass a young girl. Knock it off and wake up, real life isn’t the internet.** _

…

Well, Marinette decides. She supposes the cat will live to see another day.

_Ding!_

_**To the TV crew hanging out at the entrance of the fabric store: Filming and interrogating a 13 year old without parental consent is illegal. I WILL apprehend you. Leave.** _

A minute later, Marinette hears about a dozen curses from multiple people at the front of the store, and the rushed packing of equipment.

With a smirk, Marinette sends out a tweet of her own.

_**Wassup, Paris, thanks for landing me my very own furry stalker, @therealchatnoir. Much appreciated. Always wanted one of those.** _

_Ding!_

_**?!?!?!? FURRY?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?!** _

Marinette cackles and pockets her phone, ignoring the resulting dings.

_**DON’T PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY ON ME, HEY!!! HEYYYY!!!!** _

_**I’M NOT A FURRY TAKE YOUR PHONE OUT YOU COWARD** _

_**dcvgthgrfCFRVGTBHYGVRFCDEX F I G H T M E** _

**_I’LL SPAM YOU DON’T THINK I WON’T DO IT. HEY LADYBLOGGER GIVE ME HER NUMBER I JUST WANNA TALK_ **

**_Marineeeeetttteeeeee don’t ignore me pleeaaaaseeee ;(((((_ **

He’s a dork. He’s sweet and kind, but ultimately he’s a total dork. 

And maybe a little her type.

…

She buys black fabric, that day.

* * *

“Please? _Pleaaase?_ ”

“ _No_ , Alya.”

“Oh come on, just one with Ladybug!”

“I _can’t_ , Alya. I’m busy that day. Ask Adrien to do it or something.”

“… You know what? I will. He’s free Wednesday morning, right?”


End file.
